


We Go Together

by catsaremyboyfriend



Series: Aisha/Jensen/Cougar Blows My Mind [1]
Category: The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:59:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4360616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsaremyboyfriend/pseuds/catsaremyboyfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prequel to my poly fic, Dots</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Go Together

The first time Cougar meets Jake Jensen, they’re in jail together, on base. Jensen’s settled across from him, smiling. Cougar gives him a long look from under his hat, labels him as young, safe. Pretty. “So, what’d you do?” the boy hisses at him, still grinning that damn fool grin. 

“Shot at an officer,” Cougar says eventually, his trigger finger itching. He’s always angry now, seething raw just under the skin. The officer was careless. They lost three good men. Cougar had given him warnings. This is the last one; next time Cougar will come for him in the dark. 

“Holy shit, and they didn’t discharge you?” The kid squints before his face brightens. “Wait. Are you Carlos Alvarez?” Cougar nods, a little proud when the kid whistles. “Damn. Guess they can’t kick you out, not after that mission…in…Ibitza…” He seems to realize he _should not know_ about that even as he’s speaking; it’s like he can’t stop.

Cougar leaps, takes him by the throat. “You should not know about that,” he growls, hearing the kid’s breath hitch. “Classified.”

“Yeah, yeah, uh, that’s why I’m here, actually,” he squeaks, gripping Cougar’s wrists. “Computer hacking. It’s, like, super illegal knowing all this info.” His pulse remains steady, so Cougar lets go to sit back. “Does this mean no hot, angry, jail sex?” the kid asks, loosening all over. Cougar’s almost tempted. He wonders how the kid would respond to a yes. 

The door bangs open, though, one of the base’s top brass barking, “Jensen! Get your ass out here!” Jensen waves a cheery goodbye as the door slams shut. Cougar settles into his original position and waits. Clay will have him out soon.  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
He meets Jensen again a month later, after days of hearing Clay talk about their newest soldier, each anecdote worse than the previous one. The man’s been kicked off five teams already. His last commanding officer quit the Army rather than deal with him. He talks incessantly, even in the field. He’s the reason why Sergeant Turner gets nervous around goats. And he’ll be sleeping in _Cougar’s_ room.  
+  
The new guy arrives on a rainy day, all of them soaked to the skin. Cougar shivers, teeth on edge, glad he has a reason to be angry right now. He detests being wet. The man who comes striding through the rain to greet them is wearing glasses, has a beard, but Cougar recognizes the pretty. Jensen grins and waves. “Hi! Nice to finally meet everybody.” Winking at Cougar, brazen, he says, “Reunited at last.” 

He shifts from foot to foot, smiling too wide to be natural. They all exchange the usual greetings before they pile into the van, Jensen talking a mile a minute. Cougar watches him, grumpy for no real reason now that they’re inside. Jensen slicks the hair away from his face, careful with the gelled tips, babbling on about atmospheric pressure. 

“Do you _ever_ stop talking?” Roque growls, hand dangerously close to his knives. 

“No. Jen-that’s my sister- she says I was born talking, which can’t be true cause babies can’t talk, although my niece Jamie was talking at ten months but she wasn’t a _newborn_ so that doesn’t count, right?” 

“Your sister’s name is Jen Jensen?” Pooch asks, parsing through all those words to come up with that. 

“Yep. Jennifer.”

“Are your parents J’s, too?” Clay asks, clearly intrigued despite himself.

“I don’t talk about them,” Jensen answers, so smoothly it has to be practiced. Cougar watches Clay and Roque exchange a glance, but Jensen starts up chattering again like nothing happened.  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
After their first mission, when they’re back at base, Jensen starts talking. At first Cougar ignores him, figuring he’s talking just to talk, until he realizes Jensen’s talking _to_ him. 

“…and your anger management problems are off the charts, Cougar, Jesus _Christ_.”

“I am not angry,” he snarls, clenching his fists.

Jensen laughs. “You’re like a Mexican version of the Hulk, dude. I thought you were gonna beat that one guy to death.”

He glowers at Jensen, pissed enough to picture him on his knees, a gun in his face. Not so sassy then. But then he starts thinking about Jensen’s mouth around the barrel, bottom lip fat and pink. He’s suddenly not angry at all. Jensen notices, says, “Uh, did I actually say something right? Cause you just got all…liquid.” 

He narrows his eyes, not angry anymore, playing. “Go to sleep.” 

“Sure thing, gatito.” Jensen’s accent is atrocious. Cougar smiles anyway.  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
He overhears Jensen asking Pooch about him one afternoon, when Clay and Roque are off with other teams. All the Losers take part in missions away from each other; they’re never as good as missions together. 

“So, what’s Cougar’s story?” Jensen asks, like they’re still in high school exchanging rumors. Cougar, who had been coming down for lunch, instead presses himself against the wall, listening. He’s not above eavesdropping, especially about himself. 

“His _story_?” Pooch drawls, a little mocking, still fond. He likes Jensen; they all do, it’s easy to like Jensen once you get past the chatter.

“Yeah. Come on,” Jensen pushes, a slight whine in his voice. Jensen’s like a 6’2 kid sometimes. Cougar doesn’t usually use words like endearing, but… 

“Yeah, yeah, okay. He was in Afghanistan, before the Losers. He lost his whole team, got taken prisoner.”

Cougar hears Jensen’s intake of breath. “His team wasn’t officially supposed to be there, so the Army didn’t bother to look for him. Six months after that he crawled out of the desert covered in blood, carrying an AK that he didn’t let go of for the next week.”  
Cougar still has it, taped under every bed he sleeps on.  
“No one knows what happened, no one ever will. He doesn’t talk about it. Last guy who asked too many questions got laid out.”

Cougar does not think about that time. Not ever. He does not think about the brothers he lost overseas, or the things he saw, or what he had to do. Sometimes the pressure of not thinking about it seals his mouth shut for days. Just hearing about it makes his skin crawl. 

“He’s crazy, but he’s solid and he’ll always have your back,” Pooch finishes; Cougar’s annoyed to be described as crazy, because he’s not, he went through psych evals just fine. They both jump when he pushes off the wall, Jensen stammering apologies before Cougar’s even on the stairs. “We’re dead,” he hears Pooch mutter. He’s not hungry anymore.  
+  
Jensen waits til Cougar’s sleeping to come upstairs, the coward. It’s useless anyway, Cougar wakes at the smallest sound. He sits up, grinning wide at Jensen’s yelp of terror.

“Cougar, man, hey! You are…up! Awesome! Hi!” He’s shirtless, halfway out of his pants. The streetlight filtering through the window lands on his collarbones, a cheek, the dip of his pelvis. Cougar smiles even wider, leering while Jensen can’t see him. “So. Uh. Sleep. Me, unconscious and vulnerable. Fun times.” 

Cougar likes Jensen sleep soft and warm. His anger isn’t worth Jensen moving to another room. “Pooch is messing with you. I wouldn’t hurt a team mate,” he says, quiet. 

Jensen blinks at him, the lenses of his glasses reflective. Then he smiles, the nervous one that’s a hair too wide. “Yeah, no, of course not. That’s. Uh. That’s super ridiculous and would never happen at all. Ever.” He kicks off his pants to stand there in his boxers, hands hanging loose.  
“So, was Pooch messing with me about your story, too?” he asks artlessly, sitting on his bed facing Cougar, their legs an inch apart. Cougar watches him for a long moment, feeling that familiar punch of anger in his gut.  
Who is Jensen, to be so personal? Cougar’s secrets are his own. “Or you could just glare like an angry cat, that works, too,” Jensen is saying, brash as always, and Cougar settles down.

“No.”

“He’s not lying?” Cougar shakes his head no, taps his toes against Jensen’s bare shin. “Oh. Well. I don’t think you’re crazy,” Jensen says loyally, so Cougar decides not to tell him that he’s the last person who knows what crazy is. Jensen is _insane_ , covered in scars he won’t speak about and always talking. 

“Gracias.”

“De nada.” Jensen grins at him, wide and warm, touching his knee. “Thanks for not killing me, Cougs. I can call you Cougs, right? You won’t shoot me? I’m too pretty to shoot.” 

Cougar laughs, taps at Jensen’s chest. “S’okay.” With Jensen sitting there beaming at him, it’s difficult to be angry over nicknames.  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
“If your dumb ass doesn’t get moving, I’m kicking it,” Pooch mutters under his breath, shoving at Jensen’s shoulder, meaner than usual. They’ve been in the ass-end of some Chinese desert for the past two weeks, nerves scoured raw by sand. 

Jensen looks back at Pooch, mouth opening to say something stupid before he catches Cougar’s eye. Cougar shakes his head no and Jensen’s mouth closes. Cougar’s grateful; he’s already had to pull Clay and Roque off each other. Sometimes he wonders who’s really in charge on this team. Maybe it’s all of them. 

Jensen slows to walk with him, squinting ahead where Clay and Roque are still arguing. Roque is limping, just slightly, too macho to complain about it. They’ll make camp in about an hour, with six hours walk til pick up. There was supposed to be a dictator in hiding and Cougar was supposed to kill someone, which he’s kind of pissed about missing. All they found were yaks. 

“Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Jensen asks, chipper as ever despite their trek through the desert. Cougar kind of wants to hate him.

“Three,” he grunts, adjusting his rifle. His best rifle, which he hasn’t used in two weeks. Jensen gives him a once over, then shrugs. He hasn’t been talking as much, which is making Cougar uncomfortable. He’s used to the constant undercurrent of Jensen’s voice.  
They walk along in silence, Cougar focusing on the thump of his feet against hard-packed dirt. Jensen bumps shoulders with him and smiles.  
+  
He takes first watch; he’s too unsettled to sleep. He hates deserts, hates the scour of wind and the endless horizon. Jensen comes out at two, while Cougar is watching the stars. He was pretty good at navigation, back in boot camp. Stars are easy.

He hears Jensen before he sees him, the heavy tramp of his boots. “Hey, Cougs.” Whistling, Jensen sits next to him, on his rolled up blanket. Jensen’s swaying a little, like he always does when he’s tired. It’s been a long op for all of them. 

Cougar’s feeling like an ass, he got pissed earlier, called Jensen a son of a whore, and Jensen got all quiet, then agreed with him. “I’m sorry,” Cougar says after five minutes of silence, more awkward than he’s used to. He just wants Jensen to talk again. He’s not too macho for apologies. 

“I don’t talk about my parents,” Jensen says, examining one of the cigarette burns on his forearm. “Not ever.” Cougar nods; there are things he doesn’t talk about, also. “But thank you.” He pushes into Cougar’s shoulder, just a brief touch, then tilts his head back. “That constellation is Ursa Major, I think.”  
Cougar relaxes as Jensen elaborates on about astrology, the desert somehow a little bit less cold.  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
In Moscow, Cougar comes home tipsy, more on the edge of drunk, listing from side to side. Everything has gone pleasantly blurred. He’s running a little hot under the collar, freshly laid, arousal still buzzing under his skin.  
They were sisters, twins, fascinated by an American, even one who speaks mostly Spanish. Cougar still has their lipstick smeared across his mouth.

“Jensen,” he slurs, knocking on the door he’s mostly sure leads to their safe house. It’s military, so it’s ugly, but it keeps the cold out. “Jensen,” he says again, the lisped j worse than usual. The door opens to a shirtless Jensen, halfway through dinner judging by the fork in his hand.  
Cougar grins, loose, leans into the glimpse of light past Jensen’s shoulders. “Jensen. Hola.” Then he’s saying shit he’s usually afraid to even think about, but it’s in Spanish, and Jensen’s shit at Spanish, so it’s fine. 

Jensen’s eyes drop to his mouth, narrow. “What lucky lady got the pleasure of your company tonight, Cougs?” Cougar holds up two fingers, smirking. Jensen’s eyes narrow even further. Pissed off is a good look on him. “Oh. Well. Jen says hello.”

Cougar’s never even met Jen, not beyond a Skype screen, anyway, but she sends greetings every time. “Jamie?” 

“She’s potty-trained,” Jensen says, proud as any father, always so easy to distract when it comes to his niece. “I got her a book called _Everybody Poops_. Jen says she loves it.” 

Cougar snorts, moves further into Jensen’s personal space than he usually lets himself go. There’s a scar just above Jensen’s right nipple, about the size of a dime. He has freckles on his shoulders that are only visible this close, cold air goosebumping his skin. He’s gone very still, hands frozen at waist level. 

All Cougar can hear is the far off clamor of the city. He feels very peaceful, which is rare enough to be consciously noticed. Cougar hasn’t been peaceful since his last team died screaming. 

“Jensen! Close the goddamn door!” Roque barks, and they both jump. Cougar shoves past Jensen, touching more than necessary. 

“Cougar. Good. You’re home,” Clay is saying, his back turned to them, Roque close to his side. Pooch looks up, waves. Already feeling more sober, Cougar sets himself on Clay’s other side. 

“You smell like a whorehouse,” Roque grunts, shuffling through papers. 

“So did your mother,” Cougar replies, hearing Pooch’s chuckle, Jensen’s laugh from the kitchen. Roque’s rumble is angry, but he doesn’t press it. 

“Eyes on the prize, boys,” Clay says, his start every time they do tactics, so Cougar rubs his knuckles into Roque’s shoulder, teasing, and focuses.  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
“I think lizards are the next stage of evolution,” Jensen says from _right behind him_. Cougar is proud that he doesn’t flinch, swallows down the instinctive anger at being surprised. 

He’s posed in a window, looking down the long barrel of his rifle at a café. There will be a woman there, a revolutionary, in an hour. Men will try to take her, men from a government that isn’t very nice. Cougar is going to kill those men. He licks his lips, already looking forward to it. 

“Like scales and shit,” Jensen continues, his breath hot on the back of Cougar’s neck. Cougar reaches back, grabs the first part of Jensen his hand finds. It happens to be the thick muscle of his thigh.  
Jensen leans into the touch, hooks his chin over Cougar’s shoulder. With anyone else, this would be a killing offense. With Jensen, Cougar just sighs and shifts his rifle to the other shoulder. 

“No scales,” he murmurs, remembering the snakes that infested his house when he was small. His father would snap their necks. 

“Then spines or something, so I can spike a motherfucker,” Jensen decides, his lips brushing Cougar’s ear. Cougar reminds himself that he’s Catholic, and thus good at resisting temptation. 

Fond, he says, “Ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously cool, you mean.” Exasperated, feeling sweat drip down the nape of his neck, he puts his rifle aside and turns around, facing Jensen. Raising a brow, he waits. Jensen doesn’t mess around on missions unless he has an ulterior motive. And Jensen is terrible at keeping secrets. 

“Jamie turned three today,” Jensen finally admits. Jamie, Cougar has been told repeatedly, is Jensen’s favorite and only niece and one of the two family members Jensen will speak of.

“And?” Cougar prompts, Jensen always making him more talkative. 

“I need to give her a present.” He leans in close, Cougar closing his eyes on instinct. “Right. Away,” Jensen says slowly before drawing back. Cougar’s thinking, send one when they get back to base, and, like is becoming worryingly common, Jensen reads his mind.  
“I could send one when we get back to base, but who knows when that’ll be.” He wraps his fingers around Cougar’s arms, too close in this confined space. Cougar shifts, just a little, frustrated by his reactions to Jensen. “Help me smuggle it through,” Jensen’s cajoling, wheedling, like Cougar could ever deny a bit of rule breaking. 

“What is it?” Jensen holds his hands out, cupped, clearly something precious. It’s a heart, one of the crystal ones they sell at every booth in this place.  
It gleams in the dim light and Cougar, annoyingly, is touched. Jensen cares so _much_ , about _everything_. All Cougar has is his anger.

“D’you think she’ll like it?” Jensen asks, earnest, and he’s still a kid, really, went into the Army straight out of high school like all of them.

“Yes,” Cougar responds, because he grew up with a sister and she had heart shit everywhere. He figures Jamie will be the same, though if she’s related to Jensen she’s bound to be weird as hell. 

“Thanks, Cougs. “ Jensen kisses his cheek, fast, scurries away before Cougar can even process it.

“Esta loco,” he murmurs, turning back to his window.  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
He’s angry, as usual, hot under his skin like poison. They’re at a bar, all of them except Pooch, who’s back in their hotel room mooning over Jolene. Roque has a girl perched on his knee, leaning over the table to chat with Clay, who’s grinning all slow at a chick across the bar with a neck tattoo. That won’t end well. 

Cougar takes a sip of his drink; whiskey, not his favorite but it does the job. He flicks his eyes to Jensen, the source of today’s anger. Jensen, who’s wearing his tightest jeans, grinning at the first girl yet who’ll give him more than the time of day. 

Which is strange, Cougar thinks, cause Jensen’s attractive, smart, comes with a collection of novelty t-shirts. His ass is cute, too. Either way, this girl seems to be into it, giggling at everything Jensen says. 

Cougar’s jaw tenses. He hasn’t fucked anyone in weeks, all he can think of is fucking _Jensen_. It’s pissing him off. He catches Jensen’s eye, watches the smile on his face falter before turning and leaving. 

 

It only takes a few seconds for Jensen to catch up, fall into step beside him. “Cougs? Cougar?” He sounds fine, unworried, but they’ve all learned how good Jensen is at masks. 

Cougar thinks of the woman with her hand on Jensen’s arm, possessive, and grits his teeth. “Jensen.” He’s sick of avoiding shit, even though he’s always hated change. 

“What’s up, my man?”

“Jensen.”

“Yep. That’s my name.” 

“Jake.”

Jensen hesitates, just a step, but Cougar notices everything. “That…is also my name.” Cougar turns, fast, moves Jensen into the nearest alley, presses his whole body against his. “Whoa. Hello. I… _Hello_.” Jensen’s big hands are at his hips, gripping. Cougar bites at the wet curve of his mouth, slides a knee between his thighs.  
“Holy shit. Holy _shit_. I knew you wanted at my sweet ass, I _knew_ it. You fucking-” Cougar cuts him off with a kiss, shuts him up for a second til Jensen draws back, gasping, “Cougs-” 

“Carlos,” Cougar interrupts. 

“Carlos?” 

“Only sometimes,” he warns, because even in his head he’s Cougar but Carlos is more personal. 

“I get to use your given name?” Jensen breathes, like it’s a gift, and Cougar has to press kisses to his cheek, his nose, softer than he usually lets himself be. 

“Mhm.” 

“ _Awesome_.”

Nine Years Later  
“ _That’s_ how you got together?” Aisha’s laughing, leaning heavily against Jensen’s side, her legs tangled with Cougar’s. He looks up, kisses the tiny scar on the underside of her jaw, squeezes Jensen’s hand. “Ridiculous. I can’t believe you waited that long, Cougar. Jensen’s always been desperate.” 

Cougar grunts, hidden under Jensen’s protest of “Hey!” She runs a hand down his torso, calming, flicks at one of his nipples. 

“Relax, puppy.” Cougar presses his nose to Aisha’s neck, smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> i have like this head canon that cougar has a ridiculous sex life, like stuff happens to him that you only hear about in porn and it doesn't phase him, he'd be surprised to learn that shit like "hot russian twins" doesn't happen to everybody. i also head canon that he was very angry when he was younger, til he found an inner peace that can't be fucked with


End file.
